


debaser

by saturnzbathz



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Eating Disorders, Heroin, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnzbathz/pseuds/saturnzbathz
Summary: 2d struggles with heroin addiction.





	1. a song that doesn't sing

The traffic was heavy, slowly inching along the highway. 2d rested his elbow on the car door, sighing as he leaned back in the seat. He could feel the beginnings of withdrawal creeping up on him, and began to panic. He anxiously tapped his fingernails on the side of the door, following the beat of the radio. 2d had hoped to be back at Spirit House before his next hit, but the unexpected traffic caught him off guard. He pulled off the highway at the next exit, and sped towards the nearest gas station. Ignoring the looks he received as he ran into the bathroom, 2d took solace in the knowledge of the heroin burning a hole in his backpack. It wasn’t ideal, but the dirty bathroom would work.

2d immediately locked the door behind him, and started preparing for the high he so desperately needed. Once he had the syringe ready, a familiar anticipation swept through his body, and he excitedly removed his belt. He watched his veins grow more prominent as he tightened the belt around his bicep, and he quickly administered the drug through a vein in the crook of his elbow.

He loved heroin. The rush, followed by a glorious calm, was necessary for him to exist. Sure, it wasn’t great for the touring musician, but 2d managed. His bandmates were very much aware of his habit, and had saved his life on more than one occasion. He saw the pain he put them through, but they didn’t do much to help 2d beat his addiction. They were used to seeing him high at this point in the band’s career, and 2d stopped caring a long time ago.

2d’s addiction began late in 1997. He had struggled with his mental health for his entire life, and was always looking for another way to self-destruct. Already going through a serious self harm problem coupled with an eating disorder, 2d jumped at the chance to destroy himself further when he was offered a line of heroin at a party. He loved the feeling immediately, but wanted more, so he started to use heroin intravenously. Over the years, 2d had gotten clean countless times, but always experienced a relapse.

2d watched the person in the dirty mirror, unconvinced that those were his dark eyes staring back. _The colors seem a bit too bright_ , he thought. He ran his fingers through his hair, and started putting everything away.

He bought a pack of cigarettes from the station, not noticing the concerned look from the cashier, and made his way to his car. Glancing at his phone, 2d frowned at several texts from Noodle, and threw his phone onto the passenger seat. After lighting a cigarette, he put the car in drive, and sped off back towards the highway.


	2. busted and blue

A pair of beaten-up Converse hit the pavement. 2d somewhat stumbled out of the car, feeling as if his legs somehow weren’t connected to the rest of his body, and started walking towards the house. He shielded his eyes from the sun with his palm; _Everything is so fucking bright_ , he thought, hazily. Surprisingly, he made it to the front door, and let himself into the building.

2d quietly slinked through the house, trying to avoid attracting attention from his bandmates. The house was quiet, and every move 2d made seemed excessively loud. The lights hurt his eyes as he stumbled through the house. He didn’t make it far, though, before he heard a voice behind him.

“Toochi?” said Noodle. “Toochi, where were you? I’ve been looking for you all day!” His back still faced her. 2d turned around and saw Noodle’s smile for just a moment, before he watched it fall. Noodle wasn’t a stranger to seeing 2d high.

“I went out to, uh, pick up some groceries, Noodle, that’s all,” he replied, cautiously. He didn’t know why he still even bothered to lie in these situations. Noodle let out a sigh.

“Okay, let me help you to your room, Toochi.” She gingerly reached out for 2d’s forearm, steadying his movements. Together, they walked towards 2d’s bedroom.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, you’re okay,” Noodle said calmly, as 2d was trying hard not to fall asleep on her shoulder. Noodle reached for the door handle and led 2d into the room.

“Thanks, Noodle..” he mumbled, walking towards his bed. 2d shakily lowered himself onto the quilt, Noodle watching sadly from just a few feet away. She took a deep breath before responding.

“Of course, Toochi. I’m always here if you need anything.” 2d could barely keep his eyes open; Noodle gently put a pillow behind him so he wouldn’t choke if he needed to throw up when he was asleep. 2d mumbled a quick “thanks” before finally drifting off.

Noodle quietly left 2d’s bedroom, and once she was back in the hallway, began to cry. _Why does he do this?_ She thought. Her back slid down the wall, and Noodle put her head in her hands. She was so tired of watching her friend do this to himself. As she continued to sob, she didn’t notice Murdoc open his door. He slowly walked over to Noodle, and sat down on the floor next to her.

“The kid’s gonna kill ‘imself with those damn drugs, Noodle. We have to do something!” Murdoc reached his arm around Noodle’s shoulders comfortingly, and she started crying into his shirt.

Noodle looked up at the bassist. “Murdoc, what are we going to do? What if he overdoses again?” She let out another sob.

“We’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to him when he sobers up, okay? Let’s get Russ.” Murdoc stood up, and held out a hand for Noodle. The two walked down the hall together towards the drummer’s room.

****

His back hurt. 2d groaned as he moved over. _Who put that pillow there?_ He threw it on the floor and pulled the covers over his head. His stomach churned. _Fuck, I need a hit._

2d watched a fly buzz around his room. The noise it made seemed extraordinarily loud, and he covered his ears with his hands. His head was pounding; he didn’t remember getting back from the gas station. Ignoring complaints from his head, he wearily stood up, trying to balance himself by reaching an arm out for the wall. He heard his bedside table lamp crash to the floor, but he didn’t care. 2d grabbed his backpack and shut himself in his bathroom.

His hands trembled as they unzipped the backpack and removed everything he needed. 2d prepared another syringe as efficiently as the previous; quickly dissolving the drug and loading it into the tube. He tightened his belt, and lined up the needle. Just as he was about to insert it and hit the plunger, however, he heard a soft knock at the door.

“Fuck.” 2d mumbled. He replaced the cap on his syringe and put it on his bathroom sink.

“Dents?” A voice said, coming from the door. _Murdoc._

“I’m coming.” 2d said halfheartedly. He opened the door, and Murdoc walked into his room. “Come on in, then, I guess,” 2d muttered. Murdoc nervously tapped his fingers against his legs as he glanced around the messy bedroom.

“Look, Dents. We have to talk, alright?” Murdoc said quickly. _Fuck_. “You’ve got a problem, and Noodle, Russ, and me are concerned.”

“You’re concerned?” He almost laughed. “I’m not really sure what you’re talking about Murdoc.” 2d focused on the carpet instead of Murdoc’s eyes.

“I’m talking about the fucking heroin, 2d!” he yelled. 2d flinched. “You’re gonna fucking overdose again if you keep being a fucking dumbass, okay?”

“I’m sorry, Murdoc.”

“You’re driving Noodle crazy, she’s so worried about you. She was crying after she helped you to your room when you finally came home today.” Murdoc scoffed as 2d’s eyebrows rose. “I bet you don’t even fucking remember getting back, you were so out of your goddamn mind.”

2d ran his fingers through his hair. “I really am sorry, Muds. I’ll try to get better, okay?” 2d could feel tears welling up.

“I fucking hope so, Dents.” Murdoc slammed the door on his way out.

2d stood there for a moment, then wiped away the tears that were beginning to snake down his cheeks. He returned to his bathroom sink, and picked up the syringe. Before he could second guess, the drug was already coursing through his body. He sat down on the cool tile, and felt his problems go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more to come :)


	3. glitter freeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major trigger warnings for a graphic suicide attempt description, mentions of self harm, scars, and a past eating disorder.

He woke up on the bathroom floor. 2d had no idea how long he had been asleep, but he could feel the heroin wearing off. He rubbed his eyes, and started to stand up, making it about halfway before he began seeing black spots dance across his vision. He leaned against the wall, waiting for it to clear. After a few seconds, 2d fully stood up and walked out of the bathroom.

He glanced at his phone. Nearly 5 hours had passed since Murdoc confronted him about his drug use. 2d groaned as he thought about the incident, but he was past the point of caring. He scrolled through the various notifications on his phone screen, not opening any of them.

2d stumbled towards his closet, and pulled out a clean pair of clothes. He undressed rather slowly, lacking the energy; as he pulled off his jumper, he couldn’t help but glance at the collection of raised scars that littered his forearms. He ran his fingers over his skin, remembering his past. Sitting on his bed, he focused on one scar in particular; a long, wide mark that ran about 4 inches down the length of his forearm. Although the scar was 10 years old, he couldn’t help but feel emotional thinking about the memory.

****

_It was the winter of 2007. 2d huddled over the toilet, shivering. He had spent the day, for the most part, shut in his bathroom with Noodle sat on the floor outside. She kept trying to come in, but 2d refused. “She doesn’t need to see me like this,” 2d thought, as he began vomiting again. He heard a timid knock on the door._

_“Toochi…” Noodle seemed afraid. “You have to let me help you.”_

_“Sorry, Noodle. I just want to do this alone, okay?” He rested his sweaty forehead on the ceramic bowl. “Fuck,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the end of his sleeve._

_“This is all Murdoc’s fucking fault,” he thought. “If he hadn’t taken my goddamn heroin, I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess! He couldn’t have even left me my painkillers? Fuck.” He spat in the toilet bowl. His migraine was killing him._

_After his last overdose put him back in the hospital, Murdoc forced 2d to give him the drugs. Russell and Noodle watched 2d hand over his heroin with tears in their eyes; this past overdose had almost cost the singer his life. His increasingly reckless behavior was scaring them, and they worried that he would try to harm himself again._

_Of course, the press had a field day with the famous singer’s hospitalization. Videos surfaced on the internet of 2d being lifted out of an ambulance on a gurney and pushed into the hospital, barely conscious. Reporters swarmed Murdoc as he stepped down from the ambulance, all shouting questions at the distraught bassist. He didn’t seem to hear them as he pushed through the crowd to follow 2d into the building._

_Fans were panicking; an official statement from Gorillaz was yet to be posted. After several days, 2d was released from the hospital. The band wrote on their website a brief message stating that 2d was alright, and was hospitalized after a medical crisis. 2d requested that the statement be left vague, but several theories popped up on the internet of what actually happened. Some of them were scarily accurate, but 2d refused to say anything more about his overdose._

_2d eventually drifted off to sleep, his head rested against the edge of the toilet seat._

_He opened his eyes the next morning, feeling a little bit better. Physically, that is. Mentally, he felt absolutely horrible; everything he had avoided with drugs had come flying back into his head._

_2d stood up slowly, holding onto the edge of the countertop for support. A sudden wave of nausea sent him back down to the toilet, but he didn’t manage to throw up. Getting up again, 2d opened the door to see Noodle asleep on the floor. He carefully stepped over her, and made his way to the kitchen. He slipped a slice of bread into the toaster. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a proper meal, and he started to wonder if he was slipping back into old habits. He couldn’t really bring himself to care._

_Picking up the toast, he sat down at the kitchen table and opened up the newspaper. He always loved to read the comics, particularly the Gorillaz one. This week’s strip showed Murdoc hugging 2d, and appreciating him for being his friend. 2d couldn’t help but laugh at how far that was from the truth._

_He heard footsteps in the hallway, and braced himself for the upcoming awkward conversation. Murdoc walked quickly into the kitchen, and stopped to put on his shoes. He looked up and seemed taken aback to see 2d sitting there. After a moment, Murdoc walked over and whacked 2d in the head with the sole of his sneaker._

_“Welcome back, Faceache.” He snarled. “How does it feel to be alive, you fucking dumbass?” 2d cleared his throat._

_“Um, yeah, good morning, Muds,” 2d replied quietly. Murdoc sent him a glare._

_“Gave us all a damn scare, that’s what you did. What the fuck would we have done if you died? There wouldn’t be any more Gorillaz, that’s for damn sure.” He slipped his sneaker on and left the room. 2d looked down at his unfinished toast, and felt disgusted with himself. He almost wished he had died in that ambulance, just so Murdoc would see him finally happy._

_The toast ended up in the trash, and 2d returned to his room. He gently shook Noodle’s shoulder to wake her._

_“Hi,” she said wearily, “Are you okay now?”_

_“Yeah, Noodle. Come on, get up off the floor, okay?” He held out a hand to the sleepy guitarist, and helped her stand up. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, and started sobbing._

_“Hey, it’s ok,” He said, confused. Her teary eyes looked up at his._

_“No, Toochi. It’s not.” She paused. “We almost lost you! The doctors said you wouldn’t have made it if you came in later. Why would you do this to yourself?” Noodle cried into his shirt. 2d didn’t have an answer for her, and remained quiet._

_They stayed there for quite a while, eventually laying down on 2d’s bed next to each other. They didn’t talk, just appreciated the company._

_2d slowly recovered over the next few days, but his mental health began to decline. He had been off heroin a little over a week now. His friends were ecstatic, but 2d had never felt more depressed. He spent most of the time staring at the wall, lying under his quilt, only leaving his room whenever he got so hungry that his stomach ached. Luckily, the rest of Gorillaz usually let him be._

_After 3 sober weeks, he had a thought. The band had left a magazine photoshoot, and was on the way back home. Murdoc tapped his long fingernails on the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing quietly on the radio. 2d, sat in the passenger seat, watched the scenery fly by out the window. As they crossed a bridge, he couldn’t help but wish the car would drive off the side. He watched the scenario play out in his head. When they safely reached the other side, he felt somewhat disappointed._

_Thoughts like this became more and more present in 2d’s life. He often imagined something that would happen, and result in 2d’s death. Car accidents, house fires, and other events plagued his thoughts, his dreams. Sometimes he thought about how he could cause his own death._

_He started cutting again._

_One day, 2d woke up on bloodstained sheets, and felt nothing but hatred for himself. He had been clean from heroin for a miserable month and 4 days. A month and 4 days too many. A lifetime too long. He began planning, and put more focus into the itinerary of his death than he had put into anything else in the past month. He decided that that night would be the night to kill himself._

_He wrote his letters, keeping them brief but clear. He apologized mostly. For anything. For everything. He finished them quickly, and put them away into envelopes, neatly stacked on his bedside table. He laid down on his bed, and felt the happiest he could remember._

_As the sun dipped down under the horizon, 2d locked himself in his bathroom. He was ready; checking off a mental list of necessary items. “Alcohol, check. Shot glass, check. Razor, check,” he thought. Sitting on the toilet lid, he poured himself a shot, and downed it. Repeat._

_His vision was blurry, his face numb; 2d had another shot, and picked up the blade. He dragged it along his arm, over and over, following the same cut. He was shocked at the amount of blood. He had never gone this deep before, but it was necessary. 2d felt very tired all of the sudden, and lost his grip on the razor. It seemed to take a while to clatter to the tile floor. 2d watched blood fly off as it fell, and blend with the blood around him that was slowly spreading across the floor. He didn’t hear the knocks, or the concerned voices calling his name. He barely noticed the door flying off its hinges before he blacked out._

_Once again, he woke up in the hospital._

****

2d ran his finger along the scar one last time before picking up and putting on the jumper next to him. He sent a quick text to his dealer, and they set up a meeting place. He glanced at himself in the mirror, ran his fingers through his hair, and left the room.


	4. to take the bitter pill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for scars and track marks

Noodle sat on top of her bed, legs crossed, listening to the music playing through her headphones. She thought about 2d. She thought about 2d a lot, actually. Noodle worried about him mostly; his addiction had gotten worse recently and she didn’t know how to help him. She worried that he had started cutting himself again.

2d had essentially been an addict for the band’s entire career, letting self-harming tendencies and drugs control his life. He had gotten clean quite a few times, but always went back to his vices; cutting, heroin, and painkillers, among others. His addictions were a constant stress on Noodle, as she was usually the one taking care of him. She was the one who found 2d after his most recent overdose, as well as a few before that. She always worried that he would overdo it again. A part of her wouldn’t be shocked if he did.

Noodle paused her music, and went to check on 2d. She quietly knocked on his bedroom door, and waited for a reply. She let herself in when she didn’t hear anything come from the singer’s room.

The room was a mess. Clothes littered the floor, decorated with empty alcohol and pill bottles. Noodle could see syringes and pills lying on his bedside table. She made her way towards the closed bathroom door.

“Toochi?” she said. She could hear movement from inside the room.

“Uh, one second, Noodle!” 2d called. Noodle breathed out her anxiety. _At least he’s conscious._ The lock clicked and the door opened to revealed the singer. 2d’s hair was disheveled and dirty, sticking up in all directions. _He’s high._

“How are you feeling?” she asked hesitantly. His body swayed, and he reached out for the wall. Noodle grabbed his arm to steady him.

“I’m alright, Noodle. A bit dizzy, is all,” he mumbled. Noodle turned his arm so that his forearm faced upwards, and pulled up his sleeve. She was relieved that the only marks on his skin were white, old scars, but was shocked at the number of track marks populating the upper portion of 2d’s forearm. She pushed up the other sleeve to find the same situation. _Well, at least he isn’t cutting anymore._

“I hate them,” he said. Noodle looked up and met his eyes.

“Hate what?” she already knew.

“Them.” He motioned to the thick, raised scars. They ran across his pale skin, crisscrossing, dancing around the forearm, mostly perpendicular to the limb until interrupted by the long, vertical scar from so long ago. Noodle was unfazed; she, along with the rest of the band, were very familiar with those scars. She covered them with her palm.

“They’re a part of you,” she whispered. A tear traced down 2d’s cheek, and Noodle wiped it away with the back of her finger. She pulled the singer’s thin frame against hers, draping her arms around his shoulders.

“Sometimes I want to do it again.” He choked back a sob. Noodle could feel her breath catch in her throat. “I keep thinking about it.” She made a mental note to go through 2d’s room and get rid of anything sharp.

“’D, can you do something for me?” He nodded slightly. “Please try to get clean. For me,” Noodle pleaded. 2d was quiet for a few moments before speaking.

“I’ll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter-- been busy lately but I wanted to give you guys an update. i hope you're enjoying the fic so far!


	5. painting rooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for vomiting and self-harm

Once again, Stuart Pot began striving towards recovery, but he couldn’t help but feel a little hopeless. Recovery had always seemed unattainable for him; 2d had tried on more occasions than he could remember, and failed each time. Part of him had already accepted that this time would just join the others. The other part of him was hopeful, but also terrified to give up his crutch. His main coping mechanism was about to be lost, and 2d knew it was unlikely that he could get away with returning to his old habits. He knew it wasn’t going to be long before he was tempted to return to self-destruction, and the looming face of withdrawal was almost pushing him to relapse already. _Noodle would be so fucking mad_ , he thought.

He made it about 8 hours before he started feeling nauseous.

****

2d had been staring at the same scuff mark on his bathroom wall for what felt like hours when he heard Noodle calling for him. She fiddled with the doorknob and quietly let herself in, immediately seeing her friend curled up on the floor. She gave him a soft smile, and sat down next to the singer. 2d inched closer to her, leaning his head against her leg. She ran her fingers through his hair, comforting the sick man as his body worked through the absence of the drug.

“Oi! Faceache!” a voice called from outside the door. Noodle watched 2d flinch.

“Shh, it’s alright,” she said softly. “Is it okay if I open the door for Murdoc?” 2d nodded slightly in response, and Noodle stood up to let in the bassist.

Murdoc seemed surprised to see Noodle in 2d’s bathroom, but he soon saw the singer’s thin, pale form resting against the wall. “Oh, err, sorry Noodle. I didn’t know you were in here.” He glanced at 2d quickly before focusing again on her face. “You didn’t tell me he was doing this now,” he whispered. 2d cleared his throat.

“Hey Muds,” 2d mumbled, wiping the sweat of his forehead with a facecloth.

“How’s it going, ‘D?” A growing level of concern entered Murdoc’s speech. 2d anxiously tapped the side of his leg with the end of his finger in a repetitive pattern.

“Well, I’ve been better, I suppose,” he muttered. Noodle reached down and took the facecloth from 2d’s hand, and rinsed it with cold water from the faucet. She draped the facecloth over 2d’s forehead, and stood back up to face Murdoc.

“Could you bring him some juice? It’s been a while since he’s eaten and I don’t think he could stomach much else.” Murdoc watched the anxiety float around Noodle’s eyes as he nodded.

“Sure, Noodle, anything.” He looked down at 2d, and up again at Noodle, giving her a sad smile before leaving for the kitchen.

Murdoc poured 2d a glass of juice from the fridge, and grabbed a sleeve of crackers from the cabinet just in case he felt up to eating something. He left the kitchen in a hurry to get back to the singer’s room, but was interrupted by a large figure walking down the hallway.

“Oh hey, Murdoc!” Russell said. “Since when do you drink juice?” the drummer snickered. “Is that spiked or something?”

“Uh, it’s for 2d, actually.”

“2d? Since when do you care enough about 2d to bring him food?” the drummer said in disbelief. Murdoc focused on his shoes.

“Well, he’s really sick right now, Russ. He’s trying to get off drugs again.”

Russell sighed. “Oh. You think he’ll go through with it this time?”

“I’m not sure, really. I think it would be hard for Noodle if he relapses again. She seems to be quite involved this time ‘round.”

“Alright, well, I won’t hold you up. Best of luck with 2d.” The drummer patted Murdoc on the shoulder as he continued down the hall.

Sounds of vomit hitting water greeted Murdoc when he entered 2d’s room.

****

_Can you fix them? Bright, flashing… Can you see me?_

_Black eyes staring in a mirror, blood pooling on the counter. Red, shiny… Can you feel anything? I’m not so sure I can._

_A faint “Toochi?” in the air. You can almost see the words, right? The float through the air like sparks off a campfire. I wonder what they feel like._

_Razor tearing skin, new cuts joining old, collecting, painting the room. It’s all so tiring, don’t you agree? Can you ever recover? Revolving doors. An unfamiliar noise._

_“’D?” A shake of your field of vision. You can almost feel a handprint on your shoulder, a presence next to you, but the room is empty._

_Sometimes I like to sit on the floor, cool tiles, white. Red, shiny. The smell reminds me of something.. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Do you know what it could be? It’s somewhat metallic in nature, yet warm. There’s nothing can do for them, you know. Nothing –_

“Stu.” 2d’s eyes snap open to find Murdoc staring into them. “Jesus, ‘D. The hell was that?” 2d furrowed his brow. “You started shaking and passed out.”

“I had the strangest dream just now,” 2d said. He bit his bottom lip.

“What was it about?” Noodle asked curiously. 2d paused.

“Huh. You know, I’m not really sure.”

2d stood up slowly and shakily, grasping the wall for support. A sudden wave of nausea came, sending 2d back to the toilet on his knees. Noodle rubbed his back in circles as he dry-heaved into the bowl, pushing back the blue tendrils of hairs that fell in front of his face. “Fuck,” 2d muttered, spitting bile into the water. Noodle handed him another washcloth, which he used to wipe off the sweat and vomit that had collected on his face. He stood up again after a few minutes.

“I think I’m going to try to sleep,” 2d said wearily. “Thanks for everything, okay? I appreciate it. I’ll text you if I need anything, alright?”

The two bandmembers nodded, and helped the singer walk to his bed. Noodle grabbed the waste basket from the bathroom, leaving it by his bedside.

“I’m going to find Russ, okay? He should know what’s going on,” Murdoc whispered.

“Alright.”

She stayed with 2d until he fell asleep, watching his chest rise and fall ever so slightly. Eventually, she leaned over and gently kissed 2d’s forehead.

_We seem to be nearing the end of the storm,_ she thought hopefully. She tried to ignore the voice in the back of her head wondering if he would react well to being clean again, or if it would be a repeat of the events that happened just 10 years ago. She wasn’t sure how many more hospital trips she could take. 


	6. the slipping of the sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of weight, self harm, drug abuse, and eating disorders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long since my last chapter. I've been dealing with some personal health issues and haven't been able to write. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

2d never had any casual interests growing up. Any new hobby was obsessed over until 2d inevitably got bored or found something else more interesting. As his mental health worsened during his teenage years, he noticed the same pattern; he become obsessed with self-destruction. He heard about self-harm for the first time from a friend at school, and tried it out with a bent paper clip on the bus ride home. He remembered how good it felt, but also the fear that began bubbling up when he first saw blood. Of course, the paper clip didn’t last very long. That’s the thing about his obsessions; they always grew more intense over time. 2d’s self-harm habit didn’t slow until it put him in the hospital at 15 years old. He had moved on to razor blades stolen from the hardware store in town, and cut, one day, until the wounds gaped open. He liked how it burned.  
His mother found him, passed out on the bathroom floor with a razor blade resting in his bloody hand. He was always so embarrassed of the mess he had left behind.  
Needless to say, he was forced to stop self-harming, at least visibly, since his mom checked his arms, legs, and hips everyday. 2d’s self-harm continued, just hidden by lies and excuses. He continued punishing himself by skipping meals, making up for his lost coping mechanism. Being empty felt so euphoric. After 3 months, his body gave out on him, and he passed out in the shower.  
****  
2d woke up 15 hours later. He felt so heavy, so weighed down. After popping a couple ibuprofen, 2d staggered over to his bathroom and turned on the shower. He stood for a couple minutes in front of the mirror, taking in the mess of his appearance.  
His hair was a disaster, dirty and knotted. Dried vomit trailed down his tshirt; 2d grabbed the hem and pulled it up off his body. He studied his chest, his stomach, his arms. He felt so big. His gaze fell to his scars, ever present, ever the main source of his insecurity. He never tried to hide them, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ashamed. He removed the rest of his clothes, and continued to study his body. He had gained a considerable amount of weight since his underweight teenage years, but this did nothing to ease the self-hatred and dysphoria he had for his body. It just magnified it.  
I always take up too much space, he thought as he stepped away from the mirror and into the shower. The water was too hot, but he didn’t bother to turn it down.  
After his shower, he pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans, and set out to clean up his room. There were dirty clothes, used needles, and empty alcohol bottles scattered around his room, as well as the mess in his bathroom from last night. 2d grabbed a garbage bag from the closet in the hall, and gathered everything he knew would trigger him. When he was done, he brought the bag downstairs and put it in the bin outside. He grabbed some cleaning supplies from the hall closet, and started to clean his bathroom. He was serious about recovery this time, for Noodle mostly but also for himself.  
After scrubbing the bathroom floor, he collapsed onto his bed. He studied the texture of the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes. 2d stayed like that for a few minutes before getting under the covers. He thought about a lot of things; Murdoc, Noodle, heroin. He thought about hurting himself, mostly. He didn’t have the energy to get up and do something about it, so he just thought about it until he fell asleep.  
***  
Russell Hobbs drove his car into the grocery store parking lot. The house was almost out of food, and Russ pulled the short straw this time. He didn’t mind getting out of the house, especially since things with 2d were a little tense right now. A part of him doubted that 2d’s sobriety would last, mostly because his track record showed otherwise.  
Russ pushed his shopping cart through the aisles subconsciously, his thoughts mostly focused on 2d and the other band members. He didn’t usually get as involved as Murdoc or Noodle, but he still cared about the singer’s health. He knew a couple guys back in high school with drug problems, but never anyone as close to him as 2d. He wished he could do more to help his friend, but he had always found it difficult to be emotionally supportive. He thought it would be better to just stay out of the way.  
He didn’t know a whole lot about 2d’s past, or why he was so fucked up. He only really knew about the self-harm and the heroin problems, mostly because 2d couldn’t hide them. Russ knew that there had to be more to the story. He couldn’t bring himself to pry, though. After all, it wasn’t any of his business.  
He moved his cart towards the checkout and began placing each item on the conveyor belt. He thanked the cashier, and quickly paid for the groceries before walking back towards his car.  
The drive home was short, but felt like forever. One of their songs came on the radio, so he changed the channel. Russ parked his car next to the others in the driveway. The house was quiet as he put away the groceries, but soon he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.  
“Hey, Russ,” he heard Murdoc say behind him. Russell turned around.  
“Oh, hey,” he paused. “How’s 2d?”  
“Oh, he’s sleeping, I think. Still off the drugs as far as I know.” Murdoc yawned. He took a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water from the sink. “Not sure how long that’ll last.” He pulled out his phone.  
Russell didn’t respond.  
“Hey, you want pizza for dinner? I was thinking about getting takeout,” Murdoc said without looking up from his phone.  
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Russ paused. “Maybe we can all watch a movie or something, like old times.”  
Murdoc smiled. “Yeah. Like old times.”


	7. beam a light on me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for graphic self-harm imagery

Murdoc watched Russ fiddling with the TV cables from the kitchen. His hands grazed over the cool countertop as he turned away, lost in thought. Somehow he thought that a movie night would help the group through 2d’s recovery, but it just felt like a band-aid, a cover pulled over the festering wound of the singer’s addiction. 2d’s mental health loomed like a shadow in the background, just as it always had. It felt louder than ever tonight.

He watched the blue-haired man walk through the doorway into the living room. He looked terrible; his eyes were red from a lack of sleep, his clothes slept in and wrinkled, his shoulders slumped. Murdoc felt pity begin to creep into his chest, and, in defense, put on an all-too-cheery face.

“Oy, ‘D! Come get some pizza, if you want,” He said. 2d flashed him a weak smile before making his way to the kitchen. He subtly reached out his hand and steadied himself on the edge of the countertop, clearly dizzy. Murdoc watched as his sleeve inched up just enough to expose the end of a large white scar, the one from so many years ago. Noticing Murdoc’s gaze, 2d laughed nervously as he quickly pulled down the cuff.

“So, um, what movie did you pick out?” 2d quietly said as he placed a slice of pizza onto a plate. He hesitated for a moment, as if he was deciding whether to take another slice, before closing the box.

“Oh, Russell picked something out,” Murdoc muttered. “I’ll be right back, yeah? I think I forgot my phone in my room.” He quickly walked out of the kitchen, and began to walk towards 2d’s room. He couldn’t get the thought of all the events of ten years ago out of his mind. He had to know if the singer was alright, and not just putting up a front. _I guess we’re all putting up a front._

2d’s bedroom was uncharacteristically clean; his bed was made, his floor uncluttered, his nightstand clear of leftovers from his self-destructive hobbies. Murdoc turned and walked into the singer’s bathroom, also weirdly clean. _There must something here_ , he thought. Murdoc was familiar with 2d’s past hiding spots, and set out to check those first. He searched the medicine cabinet, the drawer, and even under the sink, and still came up empty. Frustrated, he was just about to return to the living room when he caught sight of a glimmer of silver in the corner of his eye. His heart began to race in anticipation as he approached the source of the metal, underneath the soap bottle next to the faucet. Murdoc already knew what it was. He gingerly reached out and picked up the bottle, and, sure enough, there was a large, rectangular blade sat underneath. He sighed, and replaced the bottle. _I need to keep a better watch on him_.

Murdoc returned to the living room, and again adopted his fake smile. 2d was sat next to Noodle and Russ on the couch. He motioned for Murdoc to come over as he took a bite of his pizza.

“Did you find your phone?” He said. “You were gone for quite a while.”

“Yeah, I found it,” Murdoc replied. _I found something else, too._

_***_

_Trails of blood found their way down his palm, dripping off of his fingertips in a countable rhythm. He tore off a piece of toilet paper from the roll nearby, and brought it close to the long, deep slit running down his forearm. The paper came into contact with the large amount of blood that was spilling out of the wound, and began to soak it up; he loved to watch the red take over the white._

_The brightness of his bathroom was giving him a migraine. Dizziness rang through his head; it sounded like a voice._

_“’D, hey, ‘D?” it echoed. “2D? Hey, wake up. Wake…”_

“…up!” His eyes shot open, but quickly closed due to the light.

“Alright, alright. I’m awake, I’m okay,” he muttered, shielding his eyes.

Murdoc stood by his bed, radiating concern. “Hey, are you okay? What were you dreaming about? You were talking in your sleep.”

“I’m fine, I’m okay, Muds.” 2d threw back the covers and got up, pushing past Murdoc on his way to the bathroom.

“Hey, wait! Where are you going?”

“I gotta take a piss, alright? Calm down,” 2d snapped. _The last part is for me, too._ He stumbled into the bathroom, and slammed the door closed. The noise made him flinch, and he subconsciously pulled his left sleeve down over his palm.

His eyes immediately fell onto the soap bottle; knowing of what it hid. He walked over to the sink, and picked up the dispenser to reveal the razor. He had recently purchased a box of them on impulse when he saw them in the pharmacy. At the time, he knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop himself from placing the box into his cart. 2d desperately wanted to pick up the blade. He wanted to feel what it could do to his skin, but he knew that it wasn’t the right time. Murdoc would begin to get suspicious if 2d stayed in the bathroom for too long. He quickly replaced the soap bottle, and flushed the toilet to keep up with his lie. Murdoc looked up at him when he heard the door open, and flashed a quick, almost relieved, smile.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he said nervously. His tone pissed 2d off; he was so sick of his friends walking on eggshells whenever he was around.

“No, thanks,” he quietly replied.

Murdoc nodded, and began to walk towards the door. He placed his hand gently on the doorframe, and turned around to meet the singer’s gaze. Murdoc hesitated for a moment, and opened his mouth as if to say something. Nothing broke the silence of the room, however, and he briefly glanced towards the bathroom before walking out.

2d picked at the corner of his thumbnail, anxiety filling his chest. He bit his lip before looking up at the bathroom door, still slightly ajar.


End file.
